The Story of My Life

I grew up in a home far away from here. My home is in the state of Michigan. A long time ago i met a girl named Isabella Gutierrez. Her mother terribly mistreated her, and she would always be calling me crying and hurting from various points, whether physical or emotional wounds. Her academic achievements were slowly decreasing and becoming worse and worse. I pitied her, but, however hard i tried, i could not convince her to alert the authorities. She would always tell me the same : sure, she could leave but could the authorities wrest her little brother and sister away from a woman whom had never done them any physical harm? I assured her they would not keep any children in her mother's possession were they alerted, as they would be in risk of the same mistreatment, malnourishment, and abuse of the acutest kind she herself was under. She did not, however, wish to risk it and she remained under the abusive and even terrorizing care of her mother. She had a father, although he was very soft-spoken so he did not have any say in how the mother treated Isabella and her younger siblings. One day i had been waiting on campus on a rainy Monday when Isabella staggered up to me. Upon seeing her, i regretfully recoiled from the shock. She had obviously been put under a severe beating from her ruthless mother. Her eyes were tinged and ringed with blotches of mottled blue, black, and even red. Her bottom lip was swollen and severely cut in the middle. Her arms bore the same marks as they always had, although there were many more than i had ever seen.